In To Her

by JA Huss

  Yvette puts a hand to her head, eyes heavy and closing. “I feel… funny,” she says.

  “I know,” I whisper, sadness in my voice. “I’m sorry about that, cookie. I really am. But it couldn’t be helped. I’m the monster here, not AJ. And that means I’m the only one who can finish this job.”

  And then I get out my phone, call up Manny, and say, “We’re ready for the clean-up.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five - AJ

  We’re ready for clean-up.

  The pills.

  That’s all I think about as I sway to the side and then fall out of my chair.

  The pills. I can’t focus my eyes. But I try. I desperately try to find the pill bottle on top of the jukebox. Hoping it’s still there.

  It isn’t.

  He drugged us with the fentanyl.

  Isn’t it ironic that Yvette will die the way she planned after all?

  There was never going to be a fight. Not Logan’s style, is it? Why should he bother? Why should he risk it? When he can just dump those pills into some champagne and have us drink it?

  We trusted him. I trusted him.

  There wasn’t even a single moment when Damon called that I considered following through with his request. Not a single moment.

  But Logan has never been loyal.

  Not to me, not Yvette, not to anyone. Not even to Damon. He’s just… doing his job. That’s all this is to him. That’s all we are to him.

  A job.

  I don’t want to believe it. I want to pretend this is all a mistake. I lie there for an eternity dwelling on my own misplaced faith, still willing it to be a misunderstanding.

  But Yvette is on the floor beside me. We are face to face, her eyes mostly closed. Heavy and unable to focus.

  “Yvette,” I say. Except it doesn’t even come out as a word. Just a mumbled, garbled pathetic string of sounds.

  I want to tell her things. So many things. Like… we could’ve made it. We could’ve fixed things. Started over. I could’ve given her the life she deserved. Maybe eventually, we’d fall in love.

  The island could’ve been our paradise. The beach Logan told her about. The sand, and the house, and the fresh start.

  How could he do this to her? How? After all she’s been through. After all her loss…

  And how could he do this to me?

  Logan the Loyal.

  I should’ve known better.

  I really should’ve known better.

  My world darkens to the last song on the jukebox. Logan’s pick.

  Time to Pretend.

  No, I think. You’ve been pretending this whole time.

  This is reality.

  This is who you always were, Logan.

  A traitor to the core.

  Someone is wrapping me up in a tarp.

  Voices.

  Logan saying, “He’s waking up. Give him more.”

  Another voice. One I don’t recognize.

  The cleaner.

  Then a sharp pain in my arm. And heat, as drugs are pushed into my vein. The warmth overtakes me and I start to fade again, just as someone grabs my feet and pulls me across the floor.

  I force myself to stay semi-conscious as I’m dragged outside into the cold, bitter wind, and snow.

  I plowed this parking lot. I cleared the way so they could slide my body across the ice.

  I made it easy for them.

  My eyes are heavy and they resist, but I am strong, so I force them open one more time as I’m lifted up and dragged across the floor of an empty cargo van.

  No, I realize.

  Not empty.

  Because Yvette is beside me. Blood all over her neck like it was sliced open.

  I’m sorry, I try to say. I failed you and I’m sorry. I trusted him and that was a mistake.

  But it’s just meaningless thoughts. No words.

  I fade to black…

  The next time I wake to the sound of Yvette moaning and the first thing I think is… she’s still alive. All that blood and she’s still alive.

  I don’t try to talk this time, just wait for the inevitable push of drugs into my veins. We are still in a van. Or some other moving vehicle. Because my body, still limp and weak, rolls from side to side as we take corners. Yvette’s body bumps into mine and she moans again.

  “AJ,” she whimpers.

  I try to talk but I can’t. So I think.

  I think… I’m here. You’re not going to die alone.

  I can give her that. One last gift. I can be there with her when we die.

  The next time I come up from the blackness I don’t fall back into the stupor and hazy dream world, but begin to wake up.

  “Yvette,” I manage to croak. My throat dry like sandpaper.

  No response.

  We are still moving.

  He’s taking us back, I realize.

  Back to that beast Damon. Where Damon will torture us, and rape her, and—

  The van stops. The brakes squeaking.

  Then voices speaking Spanish along with the unmistakable click-clack sound of a shotgun loading.

  Minutes pass, the driver quiet. And I open my eyes and sit up.

  Look around. Groggy, but finally awake.

  Realize four things.

  I am not wrapped in a tarp, but a thick blanket. Like the kind movers use to protect furniture.

  My hands are bound in front of me, not behind me.

  The blood on Yvette’s neck is not from a wound. Because it’s dried up and flaking and there is no cut slicing across her throat.

  We are still alive and if we do die today, it will not happen quickly.

  Chapter Thirty-Six - YVETTE

  When the dizziness hit me I thought it was just… hunger, maybe. Just… I was in need of food. Low blood sugar.

  But then AJ slumped to the floor and Logan didn’t move to help him. Just stared at me.

  “What?” I managed to mumble as I began to slump over. Then the real question. “Why?” As he caught me before I hit the floor and dragged me over to AJ.

  “Shhh,” he said. “Just sleep, Yvette.”

  So I did. I couldn’t help it.

  But not completely. It was a hazy, half-drugged dream-sleep. Filled with bad memories and the feeling of being out of control.

  A nightmare, really.

  I opened my eyes to find Logan and another man standing over me. Blood dripping from Logan’s hand. Blood that lands on my neck. Then his fingers. Gently smearing it around.

  I can smell it. Copper with a hint of iron.

  I try to ask him what’s going on, but they are just jumbled thoughts. No chance of ever turning into words.

  They speak but I can’t understand them so I stop trying.

  The next time I wake up to a sharp pain in my arm as drugs flood my body again. Logan says, “He’s waking up. Give him more.”

  And I want to scream at him. Scream about my misplaced trust. Hate myself for falling for it. Hate him for lying to me. For making me think he cared.

  Let me be your monster.

  Hate that I agreed.

  Because this is what monster Logan looks like.

  I don’t know what happens next. I just know I’m in a vehicle and we are moving. I feel like this goes on for a long time. I feel like I’m about to wake up, but then I sleep again. I start to think that there’s no such thing as time. It’s an illusion. This isn’t real, just a nightmare, and if I could only wake up, everything will be fine. None of this really happened.

  But I’m wrong.

  Because I do, eventually, begin to wake.

  And it’s one hundred percent real.

  “Yvette,” AJ says. He sounds very far away, but I can feel his body next to mine. Just pressure and warmth.

  Then the sound of a shotgun loading.

  AJ moves. Maybe even sits up.

  Why are we still alive?

  But I know why.

  Logan’s taking us back. He’s delivering us to Damon. He told us, over and over agai
n… there is no escape. The island was a lie to make us compliant. To make us cooperate. Just a lie.

  “Yvette,” AJ says again. “Are you awake?”

  I don’t want to be awake. I’d rather die than go back to Damon. Rather die than let him rape me and beat me again.

  And oh, God… I start to cry.

  “Shhh,” AJ says. “Don’t, please. Don’t cry.”

  “I told him,” I say. And to my surprise, my thoughts come out as words.

  “What?” AJ whispers. “Told him what?”

  I sob.

  “Yvette!” AJ whispers, more urgency this time. “You told him what?”

  “I told him where the baby is,” I wail.

  “Shhh,” he says again. “Please. Don’t cry. And be quiet.”

  “What’s the point?” I ask, rolling over. But I’m wrapped up in a blanket and I’m stuck. Which makes me panic.

  “Yvette,” AJ says again. “Sit up. Just… sit up and calm down.”

  “I can’t,” I say. “I’m tied up.”

  “You’re not,” he says, his tone very firm. “You’re not tied up, Yvette. You’re just tangled in the blanket. Now try, OK? They’re outside and pretty soon they’re going to open that door and that’s our last chance, do you hear me? That’s our only chance. If we want to escape—”

  “Weren’t you paying attention?” I laugh. “We can’t escape!”

  Shouting outside. They’re speaking Spanish. That’s why I couldn’t understand earlier.

  “Sit up!” AJ hisses in a low whisper. “Now!”

  So I pull up my knees, roll over, and kick my way free of the thick blanket. It’s freezing once it’s off. So cold. And it’s dark. Just blackness.

  “They’re going to dump us,” I say.

  “I don’t think so,” AJ says. “We drove for a long time. Maybe days. We’re not in Colorado, Yvette. We’re far, far away.”

  “Why is it so cold?”

  “It’s not. That’s just the drugs. It’s warm in here. Just… wake up and you’ll see. I can’t do this without you, Yvette. I need your help.”

  He’s right. I’m not tied up. Not even my hands. I push the blanket aside and reach out. Find his arm and grip it tight.

  “There you go,” he says in a calm tone. “See. You’re not tied up. Now listen. They’re gonna open the door, and when they do, I need you to stay behind me and—”

  But before he can finish the doors open and light floods in. Flashlights blinding us in the eyes.

  AJ rushes forward, yelling at the top of his lungs. Lunging at them. Diving headfirst into the body that appears as a black silhouette against a streetlight.

  They hit him with the butt of a shotgun.

  They yell in Spanish.

  They push him back.

  They point their fingers and make wild gestures with their hands.

  But they do not shoot.

  And when AJ finally stops fighting, one says…

  “Welcome to Mexico. If you behave, we will untie you now.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven - AJ

  Yvette is sweaty and flushed when they pull her out of the van. She stumbles into the night but three men hold her up by her arms. Steady her as she tries to get her bearings.

  It’s not hot, but it’s not cold either.

  We are in Mexico. I don’t know how I can tell, I just can. I don’t see any street signs. It’s just an empty parking lot lit up by a single street lamp. But we’re somewhere on the coast because I can smell the ocean and off the distance there is the call of seagulls rising with the sun.

  Three more men point guns at me. The one in front says, “AJ,” in a thick Spanish accent.

  I just glare at him. I want to kill him.

  “Just… be good,” he says. “And we will free you.”

  “Who the fuck are you?” I growl.

  The one to his left aims his gun at my head with a little more intent.

  “Do not attack us,” the leader says. “We’re here to help you. And we don’t have much time. So please, forgive and forget so we can make the boat.”

  “What fucking boat?”

  “Questions are for later,” he says. “Now is for… gentleness.”

  Gentleness? I screw up my face, not understanding. My mind still foggy with drugs. “What the fuck are you talking about!”

  “Cállate!” he hisses. “Shut up! Do you want everyone to know you are here?”

  “Maybe,” I say, but with less venom. Because… I start to understand. And then… no. No. He didn’t do that. Please tell me this is not—

  “Well, we like to live, friend. We like to keep secrets too. But we will shoot you if you make that impossible. So choose carefully, AJ.” He says my initials with an oddly American accent. “Choose carefully.”

  When I stay silent he smiles.

  Then waves his hand in a gesture that says, Please get out of the van.

  I do. With some difficulty. Because unlike Yvette, I am tied up. But only my hands, not my feet. So I scramble to the edge of the van and cautiously step out, still a little unsteady from being drugged.

  “Good,” the leader says. “Muy bien. And gracias. Now come with us.”

  “Untie me,” I say. But they don’t. His two henchmen grab me by the upper arms and pull me along while the leader walks behind me, gun pressed into my back. Yvette walks in front, supported by two other men and another out in front of her. “Where are we going?”

  He ignores that too.

  Great escape plan, AJ. You really took control of this situation.

  But… I don’t feel too bad about my failure. Because I’m starting to understand that this is my escape.

  Our escape.

  Logan. What did you do?

  We walk across the parking lot to the docks. It’s mostly empty. I’d guess… maybe four AM? They lead us out to a fishing boat. The guy in front stops, points at the ramp, indicating Yvette should board, then helps her with a shove when she hesitates.

  “It’s OK,” I say. “Get on the boat, Yvette.”

  “Where are we going?” she asks. “What’s going on?”

  “Just get on the boat,” I say.

  She shoots me a worried glance over her shoulder, but by then the men in charge of her have had enough and are pulling her along.

  I go willingly, but stop to turn once I get to the top of the ramp. “Thanks,” I say to the leader. He has put his gun away and he smiles.

  “De nada,” he says. “I owed him, now I do not.”

  I smile, getting it, then turn my back to him and follow Yvette into the cabin and down a narrow, steep flight of stairs. We stop in front of a door and wait for the three men to open it.

  We go inside, but we’re not done. Because one of the men opens a hatch and points for Yvette to climb in.

  “No,” she says, looking back at me. “No.”

  “Yvette,” I say. “Just get in. It’ll be OK.”

  I don’t know that for sure. And when I follow her down into the hidey hole, I feel her unease. Because it’s dark, and cramped, and it smells like fish.

  One man hands us a battery-powered lantern and says, “Stay in here. And do not come out no matter what.” He points to two cots, then a small fridge, then a bucket that is probably our toilet. “Sleep, food, water, shit,” he says. “Someone will come and let you out when it’s time. Be quiet. No talking.”

  “How long?” Yvette asks. But he closes the hatch. Sealing us up in the darkness. And there is the unmistakable sound of a padlock being fastened on the door.

  Yvette begins to hyperventilate.

  I hold her, saying, “It’s OK,” over and over again.

  But all she does is shake her head.

  Her trust is gone.

  Have we been kidnapped? Have we been sold? Or is this all part of some genius plan cooked up by Logan?

  We have no idea.

  All we know is that we are locked in a hot, cramped hole that reeks of dead fish for what seems like years.
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  We say nothing.

  Not one word.

  There’s a whole crew on board and I’m pretty sure none of them know we’re down here. They could be taking us anywhere. At one point we stop moving, the boat rocking wildly, wind beating against the hull.

  We stay like that forever.

  Then we motor on again.

  They are fishing, I realize. Just doing their jobs. Probably a dozen or more people on this boat with us.

  Eventually we hear the unmistakable sounds of a harbor. For all we know we’re back where we started. Damon coming to meet us when they open that hatch.

  But it’s just the fear taking over.

  I think we both know where we’re going.

  The air is so sweet when we’re finally let out of the hatch, I inhale it like water. It’s hot, and humid, and clean.

  Only one man appears at the top of the hatch when it opens. He has no gun, just a frown. Like we’re putting him out. Or hell, maybe he didn’t even know we were here until ten minutes ago when someone called him up and said, “Oh, hey. Don’t forget about the stowaways down in your secret hidey hole.”

  But he helps Yvette out, then me, and leads us up to the deck.

  There’s another man waiting on the dock. And when we disembark, he points to the shore, smiling and urging us forward.

  It’s the middle of the night again. So it’s hard to tell where we are until we’re on land, in a beat-up old car, heading into town.

  There is a sign that says, Bienvenido a la Isla Holbox.

  I think Yvette starts to cry.

  It’s been so long since we talked, we don’t do it now. Just stay silent as we pass through the town and head across the island to the opposite shore.

  “Oh,” Yvette says. Her first word in… days? I don’t even know how long we were on that fishing boat so my internal clock is all fucked up. It feels like lunchtime, but the sun is just barely up over the horizon to the east, so it’s obviously not.

  She’s looking out the window as we pull into a long driveway that leads to a house.

  “Oh,” she says again. Like she’s figured something out.